


needy

by eruriotica (minxiebutt)



Series: primal pack family [5]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Aftercare, Ass-Kicking, Beating, Chains, Consensual Kink, F/M, Face Slapping, Rough Body Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 17:21:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13839453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minxiebutt/pseuds/eruriotica
Summary: They could play at home like they usually do, but no one beats ass like Mike and he's got a reputation to uphold.





	needy

Heavy hitters night is always the quietest dungeon party, but word got out that Mike was bringing Nana and so their friends came to watch. It's the only party the pair plays at anymore, with good reason, and not just for the consideration of the tamer kinksters’ comfort levels. Erwin DMs the heavy hitters nights alongside Levi, and Nana can only sink down into subspace when her men are the ones over her.

They could play at home like they usually do, but no one beats ass like Mike and he's got a reputation to uphold.

Nanaba cleans the block of hardwood floor twice. In her peripherals, she can see a small crowd gathering, sitting at the edges of the play space with their backs against the walls, mouths pressed to ears to speak so that the dungeon stays silent except for the jingling bell on her collar. She doesn't look at any of them directly, as she's been instructed.

When she’s done with that, she gets up and goes to wash her hands. She keeps her eyes downcast there and back, and in the dungeon again, she undresses. When she pulls her blouse over her head, she catches Levi and his lanyard of safety scissors and glow sticks, a bright beam in the dim space. If he’s hovering, then Mike is nearby. The anticipatory thumping of her heart makes her hands shake as she folds her clothing and pushes it to the very edge of the clean space. A boot steps onto her fingers and finishes the task for her, pushing the stack all the way to the foot of the cross twenty feet away.

Her internal organs all collapse together into her gut and she can barely breath for the anxious excitement of danger looming over her. Mike draws the moment out, and then he finally speaks.

“I’m here.”

It’s a twist between a comfort and a threat. She surrenders her autonomy in an instant, on her knees with a straight spine and hands in her lap.

A leather eye mask comes into her vision before it blocks out her sight. Hot fingers fasten it behind her head and smooth out her hair. It’s just them now. It’s just him.

The dungeon is silent except the most subtle of jingles as her pounding heart makes the bell bob in the hollow of her throat, and for the evenly paced footfalls of Mike circling her. Her ears are desperate for any clue to her surroundings, her skin tingles, hypersensitive with fear of the unknown.

Hands settle on her shoulders and she jerks with a whimper, but his hands are only cupping, his thumbs are only kneading, until his thumbs are not, until those large digits are finding her pressure points and forcing her shoulders to bunch. She can’t even whine before his touch is retreating.

Rolling her shoulders, she resets her position. With every moment of silence and solitude in the darkness, she gets more jumpy.

The first blow comes to her right thigh, an open-handed slap that rings loudly in the silence, the echo not even back at her ears before another slap is given to her left thigh, and she throws herself forward, landing on her hands, open mouth in a gasp.

Callouses scrape her skin when hands grab her hips and haul her backward. Her knees squeak as they slide over the hardwood. A slap comes her to shoulder and she lets them fall onto the floor, leaving her ass up and vulnerable. The delicious bite of boot tread on her coccyx coaxes her hips down, too, forcing her flat and prostrate. The bite sinks in as Mike puts his weight into it, onto her, and then for a blissfully painful moment, her pelvis bears all of his weight as he steps onto her and then over.

She sighs with the loss, but does not have rest in between, before he is scraping his boot down her spine. She hisses, her back arching, flexing between convex and concave to welcome or escape the drag of tread over her skin.

Mike finishes the first drag by kicking her legs wide apart and pushing the steel toe against the mouth of her sex.

“God, yes,” she gasps, but the violation earns her a kick to the sole of her foot and she whines at the unexpected blow.

“Shut the fuck up,” Mike says with a malice very, very foreign on him.

She brings her hands to her mouth and bites into fingers when he scrapes her spine again, pushing the toe in harder this time. It feels so good that a little moan pushes through her fingers.

Mike chuckles and wedges the steel toe between her labia, a wet smearing sound invading her ears. Her hips buck up for more and he removes himself. She expects another drag of tread but he kicks her instead, steel to sex, and she cries out with pain washed in pleasure.

She only realises she’s risen up when Mike steps onto her ass, forcing her down as he puts his entire weight on her once more. Both boots are on her now, at pelvis and shoulders, and something in her spine benignly pops. She takes it for a moment before her body takes over, attempting to buck Mike off, perceiving him as danger.

He steps down and she can hear him all around her, and then his hands are in her hair. She grabs blindly for his wrist and yanks it away from her, at the same time slithering off to the side and away. In the darkness, she can’t hear his position over her pounding heart, but she doesn’t have to guess for long, because he flatly delivers the bottom of his boot to her ribs.

The kick knocks her onto her side and she rolls with it, to get away, but his knuckles ram into her solar plexus and she wheezes, paralysed. As soon as she has good sense again, she curls up on her side, tight and fetal.

“None of that, now, bitch.”

She jerks back when a hand comes to her knee, but it’s only brushing her, telling her to be comply. She shakes all over but she lets him turn her onto her back and spread her legs. Hands take her own and place them high on the insides of her thighs. Still winded from the jab, she can’t even whine as he scrapes her skin down her chest and belly, ending with a swift steel toe in her cunt. Nanaba throws her head back, silent, her nails digging into straining thighs. Again and again, he scrapes her raw then kicks her. She’s panting as soon as her diaphragm recovers, and every time her spine arches off the floor, Mike stomps her back down, keeps her supine for his pleasure.

It makes her restlessly writhe, longing for him to stop, wanting him to continue, wanting to be still, to get away from him.

This is only teasing.

Mike moves on from the foreplay and into what they came here to do.

He drops his weight onto her gut, making her cough, and then he snakes his hand between her collar and throat, pulling her up forcefully. The first slap is left-handed, knocking her sideways and everything from her mind except for the sting and the following burn. He shakes her collar and she jerks her head back in what she perceives to be his direction, just as a fist chases the slap and leaves her dazing.

He lets her head back down without a thunk, and then flips her over onto her belly. One of her arms throws out to catch herself but she's only got half her sense, and the other arm is trapped between her body and the floor. A knee nestles hard between her shoulder blades, leaving her gasping if there were enough time to, because he loops his arm under hers, then up and around, trapping her under his weight.

He gets up at the first sputter and she can hear him circling her as she gasps for air, her body burning adrenaline and oxygen faster than she can take it in yet.

There's time for her to catch her breath enough for her to feel like she can breathe and then a hand wraps around her ankle and lifts. Nanaba tries to twist out of the hold, but a slap to the back of her knee makes her tense long enough for him to use his strength and toss her.

The throw is disorienting in the darkness and she can't perceive where and how she will land, so she tucks her head between her forearms. When she hits the floor, she's tense all over, causing a terrible pain to ripple through her, starting at her right shoulder and blooming.

If she's squirming to escape, she doesn't know, but the steel toe into her calf makes her curl away from the pain. Her spine is a bowing curve as she tries to pull herself away with shaking arms, before one after the other, he kicks out her elbows and flattens her again.

When he grabs her hair this time, she doesn't try to pull him off. Instead, she grabs his wrist to mediate the pull, and he raises her onto her knees. He lets her go and she protects the back of her head with her hands, tucking her chin against her chest, trying to give herself a moment to think in the darkness screaming _danger_!

She can hear footfalls and she throws her body out, swiping blindly but catching only air. Instead, Mike catches her with the flat bottom of his boot between her ribs, once, twice, again, and again, until there's no number she can assign. When she finally manages to push that side of her body protectively into the floor, he takes to her ribs on the exposed side, stomping down on her repeatedly until she can't hold back the cries.

She begs him to stop but he continues until she can't beg him for anything else, and then he grabs her hair and rolls her onto her front.

There's a reprieve, she knows, but she now lacks enough sense to use it for anything other than peace from his assault.

Hands cup her by the under arms and raise her to her knees again. She slumps forward too far, and he slaps her belly to force her upright. She doesn't know at which point it flipped and the pain began to feel so good, so it surprises her when she rocks her hips forward and lets her head fall back, mouth slack, moaning.

His hands are rough when they push her bent knees open, but she feels hot desperation coiling somewhere demonic inside of her and she is so, so, very needy.

She takes the boot to the sternum that knocks her on her back, her legs bent at the knee and caught under her, a terrible pulling in her vastus muscles. He steps up onto her thighs and she cries like she's dying, but it only lasts a moment because the giggling comes. They bubble up from the part of her brain that can never surpass the logic. She keeps giggling as he raises her up again, still standing on her as he does.

Mike silences her giggles with a chain. It connects with her left arm and curls around her back, the end of it licking her right arm. There's a silent moment as her body registers the sensations and her brain struggles to give the appropriate response, too drenched in endorphins, and then she feels a hot pulse between her legs. The chain leaves her and comes back to her in the same fashion but reversed, this time causing her to lean into the bone-deep thud welcomingly.

The embrace of it becomes tighter as he swings it harder, until her arms feel hot with the bruising, until she feels he will crush her ribs with every swing, and then he grabs her hair and slams her backward onto the ground. She's already a little too high to feel how hard she lands.

Mike grabs her and hauls her over onto her front and she can only lay there as he uncurls her legs and brings the blood circulation back. They're still numb when he starts lashing the backs of her thighs with the chain, and as that white-noise tingle creeps in, the blows feel like death, making her whimper and squirm and kick back at him. He traps her ankle underfoot when she gets too close to connecting a blow.

Her brain is trying to focus on one part of her, but she hurts all over, a mass of aching and stinging. She surrenders to the chain as it works its way up her thighs and to her ass, painting that with its imprints. God, it all hurts so much, everything hurts, but somewhere far away, she can hear giggling, hiccuping giggles wet with crying.

Belatedly, she realises the chain is gone. Mike turns her over again and she gasps at the exquisite array of sensations as her hot raw skin meets cold hardwood floors once more.

Mike’s fingertips are at the pulse point in her throat. “Do you need more?”

She hums a negative. Mike leaves her for a moment and then he's draping a sheet over her, carefully scooping her up, tucking her modestly away in a corner. She's hazy, dreamy. Already, she's not entirely sure how long he beat her, or what all he beat her with, but as she smells the envirocide, she knows their scene is over. With the mask still in place, it's easy to drift into the pain high. She's content, wrapped up like this, and Mike carries her out to the car.

The drive feels good and back home, Mike carries her in and up the stairs, all the way to their bedroom.

“She looks gorgeous,” Hanji murmurs. Nanaba feels the sheet peeled back, but she's not in control of her body yet; she's nestled down in the slow brain waves, and she's safe here with the people she loves, who love her too, so there's no reason to come out yet.

“She took half an hour,” Mike whispers. There's an impressed whistle-like exhale.

“You must be exhausted,” Moblit says quietly. “You go, I'll get her cleaned and tucked in bed.”

“We’ll sleep here tonight, too,” Hanji offers. “A big ol’ oxytocin orgy.”

“You just want an orgy in the morning,” Mike chuckles.

“Guil-ty,” Hanji sings, but Nanaba dozes off before she hears any reply.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys I'm doing fucking [redacted] so time for more of this series!


End file.
